Humor me here. Just back from a staycation and I have some stuff welled up about a story that’s, thankfully, a couple of days past its expiration date.

The Richard Sherman deal. I know. Just hang in there a minute.

Here’s what I thought about it: Why was anyone offended? Why was it even a story? I mean, I thought the whole thing was pretty much hilarious in the same way verbose ego-stoked competitors are always hilarious. Yeah, they come off like asses sometimes but they add spice to life.

But, no, this became a 4-day talker for one reason that people hinted around but wouldn’t really come out and say: The stark juxtaposition of a loud-mouthed, Compton-raised, dreadlocked NFL cornerback rage-ranting right next to the blonde, flowing, Good Witch of the North and Dancer With the Stars, the just slightly sexed-up princess of Tebow Nation, Fox Sports' Erin Andrews.

Let’s all admit it. For some people, that’s why it was a story.

I mean, really, why else would it be? We haven’t seen victorious post-game rants before? Only for half a century, all the way back to the Liston-I Cassius Clay. No, what made this different was the close proximity of America’s favorite sideline Barbie.

Well, you know what? Erin can handle herself just fine. She wasn’t even fazed. Which is why she’s the best. My favorite part was the Seattle Seahawks' Sherman, still glazed over with adrenaline seconds after a pitch battle with San Francisco 49ers wideout Michael Crabtree, screaming into Andrews’ mike about him: “Don’t you ever talk about me!” and then Andrews offering in a geez-take-a-pill-dude tone: “Who was talking about you?”

I love Richard Sherman. I love Erin Andrews. I loved the whole goofy scene. None of it bothered me in the slightest.

And, as you've probably heard, none of it bothered either of them. Some of you may prefer the faceman platitudes of Steve Garvey. But Andrews later tweeted and said in interviews that, as a sideline reporter, she lives for the outbreak of a raw competitor like Sherman, not the scripted patter of postgame politicians.

If you’re still not sold on Sherman, fine. He did come off like a dope. But Andrews was catching a fighter coming off a street brawl of a football game who spent a good part of it going one-on-one against a prolific smack-talking wideout himself in Crabtree. Here's an NFL Network "SoundFX" segment with a miked-up Sherman "offering condolence" to Crabtree and a happily crying Seahawks fullback Michael Robinson among other dramatic post-game moments.

Now, you may say, how is it that Peyton Manning or Russell Wilson can exit the field with a smile seconds after a game and engage in a civil discussion and analysis with any sideline mike-holder? Well, I would respond: Cornerback is not quarterback. They both play football. But they play different games.

The latter is best as a left-brain analyst, processing macro info at high speed. The former is more of a right-brain artist, booking up pregame, then engaging in a micro battle each play against mainly one or two individual foes. As a corner, sometimes you encounter quiet technicians like Larry Fitzgerald. More often, you get abrasive divas who challenge your ego like Crabtree. Sherman can deal with either.

On a football field, the CB-vs.-WR and OL-vs.-DL battles are like nothing else. They are individual and personal. They are not quite like the team game that everyone else plays. Go back and dig up old Packer guard Jerry Kramer’s epic Instant Replay and read his recount of the nightmares and hatred he held for Lions defensive tackle Alex Karras. Just like Sherman and Crabtree, they were divisional foes in the old “Black-and-Blue” NFL Central who faced each other one-on-one twice annually. Familiarity breeds contempt.

Now, you could also say, the Seahawks play a lot of Cover 3 with Sherman always sitting on whoever shows up on his left side of the defense, not always Crabtree or any other wideout. But stars seek each other out, even if they only face off half the game.

And these two are superstars at ego-stoked positions where success and failure are stark, visible and final to even the most elementary fan. When a quarterback fails to connect with a receiver, gray areas always qualify the result. Was he just throwing it away? Did the receiver run the wrong route? But when a wideout beats a corner or the DB gets a PBU, it’s there for everyone to see.

Catch one of these guys, even a smart, cerebral type like Sherman, 45 seconds after his battle has concluded, and you might get aurally assaulted with some residual vitriol. Andrews has been around, she knows all of the above and she hardly minds, belying her image as America’s pristine sweetheart. When deluged with postgame tweets offering condolence that Sherman was “mean” to her, she reacted like the part tomboy she is: Are you kidding? It was awesome!

That’s why, if I have to tolerate sideline reporters, she’s my favorite. She can handle anything. She almost always gets the in-game scoops that mean something. And she’s terrific in delicate interview situations.

Which brings us to one of the worst in the business in the very same telecast. Why Pam Oliver is still around I cannot fathom. I won’t even get into her, um, look on Sunday; it would only be mean-spirited. Let’s just focus on the way the other Fox sideline model handled the Jim Harbaugh postgame interview.

Granted, this is at the top of thankless tasks in sports broadcasting. The subject doesn’t want to be there. You don’t want to intrude. You must be direct without insensitivity, try to tap into the emotions of the vanquished coach without a cloying or gratuitous manner. It’s tough. I’ve seen Andrews handle this and she almost always executes the balancing act with civility and aplomb. She manages to be brief and direct and tries to put herself in the other guy’s place without coming off wordy or contrived.

Wordiness is a malady for which I've been guilty on numerous post-game occasions. I speak from experience: It only gets you in trouble.

But then, you cringe when you hear some of the patronizing BS that comes out of some network mouths, often capped with a hamhanded yes-no query. Oliver offered up this gem to Harbaugh:

“Nobody knows better than you how hard it is to get to this point but then to come up a game short to get back to where you… You guys have worked and fought and gone through off-season training and all of that, just to come up a little short. Devastating?”

What in hell is he gonna say? Oh, no, Pam, it’s a carnival. It’s freakin’ fabulous. I swear, I don’t know how Harbaugh kept from gently, wordlessly, reaching up and flipping off her wig. Aside from the fact that “devastation” should be reserved for emotions other than millionaire coaches losing football games, it deserves a Jim Gray Award for sheer awkwardness of phrasing.

Certainly thinking thoughts he wisely kept within, Harbaugh forced a chuckle then attempted to take the high road:

“A man can be destroyed but he can’t be defeated. We’re not devastated.”

To which Oliver responded: “Is that a quote?”

Security? Please. Yes, this woman here.

Finally, as for Sherman: Last summer, I happened to come across one of my favorite writers, Sports Illustrated's Lee Jenkins, with this takeout on the Seahawks cornerback. In many ways, even by the looks of this story, he seems to be what you probably think he is -- nonstop provocateur, smack-talker, the proverbial guy you love on your team and hate to play against.

But take a a few minutes and read the whole thing and you may come away surprised. As Sherman said earlier this week, the guys who get labeled the villain aren't always villainous.